Uprising: A Journey – I

Uprising: A Journey – I

The journey was harder than expected,
a struggle;
the sky spoke in dragon tongue,
sand gnawed away at the skin,
grating to pulp those sensitive regions of the body.

Disaster struck on the third night in the desert;
a child
who’d been walking with the scouts,
and of whom every-one had been fond of,
slipped through a crevice in the mountain side.

They spent the better half of the early morning
at the gangrenous green flesh
protruding from within fissure fangs,
swollen fingers of rot and despair that reeked of death.

Before they knew it, the dunes had shifted;
by their own negligence,
they packed up and loaded the camels.

The child’s parents remained and prayed for a miracle.

The rest of the caravan held two minutes’ silence.

The vultures didn’t give a flying fuck;
they skipped miraculous death rehearsal
and hot-shadow-torpedoed mother, father and trapped daughter.

The Sun oozed mustard-pus and black blood,
so perceived
by those who Uprising: A Journey – I have time
to snatch their protective goggles and

For the government troops were onto them in a flash.

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